


Hand Up

by Askellie (NadaNine)



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Begging, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Multi, Multiple Orgasms, Multiple Penetration, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-26
Updated: 2016-10-26
Packaged: 2018-08-27 01:52:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8383309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NadaNine/pseuds/Askellie
Summary: Sans goes into heat for the first time in a long time, and needs help from some of the more worldly Papyruses to spare his innocent brother.





	

Sans opened his door a crack, listening intently for any sign of disturbance. The house was silent, just as expected. At this hour of the morning, Papyrus would have insisted on leading the expedition to the nearby town for their weekly groceries. He usually succeeded in recruiting all but one member of the household, leaving behind exactly whom Sans needed to speak with.

He made his way down the stairs, each step one of excruciating effort. Sure enough, sitting on the couch was Stretch, taking advantage of the momentary peace to smoke quietly on the living room sofa. The room was full of a soft haze that Sans was distractedly grateful for. It would help to mask the musky scent his own body was giving off; unwashed sweat and the sweet-sour scent of spent magic.

“Sup,” Stretch greeted, eyes still closed as he basked in the lazy mid-morning ambience.

Sans sidled closer, arms wrapped self-consciously around his ribs. “Hey, can I talk to you for a minute?”

Stretch cracked open a lazy eye to look up at Sans, who was doing his very best to appear composed and relaxed. Sans wasn’t quite sure how well he was succeeding. His soul felt like it was about to rattle out of his ribcage from anxious, pent-up energy.

“Sure,” Stretch agreed easily. Even though the couch was entirely empty save for his own sprawling limbs, he made a show of clearing a space beside him. “What’s up?”

Sans sat, perching uneasily on the edge of the cushion. Stretch gave him a searching, critical stare that didn’t help to calm Sans’s over-worked nerves. He wiped his sweaty palms on his shorts, leaving visible streaks on the cloth. 

Sans gathered his courage. “So, uh. I have this…problem…”

“You’re in heat,” Stretch surmised instantly.

“…Fuck,” Sans groaned, burying his face in his hands. He wasn’t sure if he was relieved Stretch was perceptive enough to save him the trouble of having to say it aloud, or mortified that his problem was so blatantly obvious that he didn’t even have to.

He supposed anyone familiar with the symptoms would be able to spot it readily enough. His bones were hot and sensitive to the touch. His breath came out in rasping pants, trying desperately to cycle more air through his chest cavity in a futile attempt to cool himself. He was sweating almost as badly as Red, and there was a distinct scent in the air that was broadcasting his condition to the world. 

Stretch patted him gently on the head, and Sans almost whimpered at the touch. “Yeah, I saw you catching wind of it last night. Also, uh. Walls are thin, dude. You’re pretty loud when you’re jerkin’ it.”

“Oh geeze.” True humiliation was burning across his face now in a glowing, cerulean flush. “Did my bro…?”

“I told him and Blue to have a slumber party out here,” Stretch told him, gesturing at the lounge. “They had a MTT movie marathon with the volume all the way up. I’m surprised you didn’t hear it.”

“I was…pretty out of it,” Sans confessed, slumping against Stretch’s side with palatable relief. “Thanks. You’re the best.”

“Anything for my bro,” Stretch told him, gently putting an arm around Sans. Usually this kind of companionable touching came easily to them, but Sans had to admit, with his heat starting to intensify, it was a completely different kind of comfort to have that long, protective arm curled around him. He took a shaky breath, resisting the urge to burrow further against Stretch’s ribs.

“Me and the Fells took your bro’s room though,” Stretch added after a moment of thought. “Sorry. They weren’t into the slumber party idea.”

Mortification came back in force. He buried his face against Stretch’s hoodie, wishing he could suffocate that knowledge right out of his brain. “Oh god. So they know?”

“They know you had a lot of fun last night,” Stretch smirked, amused. “Not sure if they picked up on the heat thing, but I wouldn’t be surprised.”

Their universe of constant danger had bred a sharp sense of vigilance into the two scarred skeletons. Sans wouldn’t be surprised either, and he sighed deeply. At least neither of them had confronted him about it, though he wasn’t sure how such a subject would even be broached. It wasn’t like the problem had ever come up before, despite their house frequently containing no less than six skeletons with the occasional inter-dimensional extra. 

“Yeah, okay. Look, I just…it’s been a real long time since my last heat. It was…” Sans fumbled for words. It had been so many years and resets ago, he’d almost forgotten it was even a thing that could happen. “Paps was just a kid then, so it wasn’t really a problem, but now…”

He wasn’t explaining this right, but it was such a shameful topic to talk about. During his last heat, which had also been his first, his body had only just reached maturity and his soul hadn’t yet formed the kind of attachments that would make him yearn for a specific mate. The whole experience had been little more than an uncomfortable rush of hormonal magic, quickly spent and easily hidden from his innocent brother.

As the two of them had grown, however, Sans had become uncomfortably aware of the way Papyrus’s soul resonated with his own. They were compatible, and he adored his brother more with each passing year. He knew it was unhealthy and reprehensible, but the intensity of his feelings was too strong to be completely buried no matter how hard he had tried. In a strange way, it was the resets that had saved him. Between the hopeless uncertainty plaguing his soul and time being stuck in an endless loop, his physiological imperatives might as well have been frozen. His body hadn’t been emotionally or physically ready for another heat.

But now…sure, a part of him was still braced for the possibility of more time shenanigans, but with the machine fixed and the stabilising factor of several alternate universes now intersecting with his own, he had much more control over keeping the timeline stable and singular. He wouldn’t suddenly be jerked back to the beginning, alone with the burden of his knowledge.

Sans was most definitely not alone any more, and that too was part of the problem. Even though his love for his brother was still the most important thing to him, having more than one version of Papyrus in close proximity made things complicated. He was still processing his feelings about that, but apparently his soul had a much more straightforward solution. As far as it was concerned, Sans was surrounded by potential compatible suitors, and it decided to make the best of the situation by broadcasting its readiness and willingness to consummate those bonds as quickly as possible.

Frankly, Sans was suffering. Even talking to Stretch now, it was hard not to just throw himself across the taller skeleton’s lap. His bones were damp and sticky under his clothes, and in his mind’s eye he fantasised about just stripping off his clothes and seeing what Stretch would do. There was a persistent ache down in his pelvis, steadily reminding him that he could be up in his room masturbating instead, but mocking him with the knowledge that his own hands wouldn’t be nearly as satisfying as Papyrus’s hands on him, soft and reverent and eager to please-

Stop, stop, he begged internally, trying to blot the image from his mind. He couldn’t think about that. That was what he needed Stretch’s help for. 

“I don’t think Pap’s ever had a heat, and I don’t wanna…I mean, he might not even feel the same, and I’m not gonna pressure him into anything.”

Stretch looked down at him sympathetically. He knew, of course, having listened to Sans’s drunk, overwrought confessions and admitted to his own feelings for Blue, but despite the cross-universe similarities, their situation was different. Blue was still the elder brother, and apparently was more worldly than his chaste exterior suggested. Stretch hadn’t told Sans the details exactly, not wanting to rub his success in Sans’s face, but the two brothers from Underswap had worked out something. 

Hell, even the Fell brothers had somehow managed to conquer their emotional constipation long before the timelines had stabilised. They weren’t even very subtle about it, but Papyrus had never remarked upon it so Sans was inclined to think he hadn’t noticed. Paps was really oblivious sometimes; a trait that Sans both cherished and found immensely frustrating. He had long decided that he would never forgive himself if it turned out that he had somehow put the idea into his brother’s head and ruined him for the chance at a more normal, uncomplicated relationship. 

If Papyrus ever approached him completely of his own volition, then…but that was just a dream, and not one Sans dared to entertain with any seriousness. 

“I see,” Stretch said, rubbing Sans’s back reassuringly. “So, you want…help?”

Sans blinked, all thought stumbling to a halt as Stretch’s hand slowly travelled down his spine, the soothing caress turning sensual alongside the strange emphasis on that last word…or was Sans’s heat just making him misconstrue the completely innocent offer? He couldn’t even tell any more.

“I just…want you to stop me from doing anything stupid,” he said, trying and failing to keep the strain out of his voice as he internally replayed Stretch’s words, the word ‘help’ being uttered in increasingly sultry tones. Yes, he wanted help. He wanted all the goddamn help. Fuck. He was so boned. “I didn’t realise heat could get this bad. I can’t even think straight, and-”

“Shh. It’s fine,” Stretch said, gently pressing a phalange to Sans’s teeth to hush him, and that was all it took to break Sans’s swiftly crumbling resolve. He moaned softly, opening his mouth to nip at the tip of Stretch’s finger, wanting nothing more than to take it into his mouth and suck on it in a lewd mimicry of an even dirtier act. 

A moment later, sanity crashed back into him with full force, and his sockets went wide as he realised what he was doing. He was ready to flinch back and shortcut away out of sheer mortification, except that rather than look perturbed, Stretch was grinning at him encouragingly. His long fingers hooked into Sans’s mouth, eliciting a startled sound that tapered off into another moan as Stretch intimately stroked the tender bone behind his teeth, drawing Sans closer until the smaller skeleton was sprawled partway across his lap. 

Sans conjured his tongue without so much as a concious decision, his long-repressed instincts awakening in full force to guide him. He curled the supple appendage around Stretch’s finger, trying to coax him to explore the deeper recesses of his mouth, opening his jaw wider in wordless willingness to take in more of him. Stretch laughed and deftly wriggled free.

“Whoa there! Before we get too carried away, we might wanna think about not doing this on the couch. Everyone else’ll be back soon.”

Sans reeled back, dazed and breathless. “Ugh. Shit. Sorry. You see what I mean about stupid decisions?”

He forced a laugh, wondering if maybe Stretch had just gotten caught up in the moment and was changing his mind. He was ready to pull back and force himself to expunge the last few minutes from his memories except that Stretch caught him by the nape of the neck and dragged him back for a soft peck of teeth against teeth.

“Just give me fifteen minutes to make sure we won’t be interrupted, yeah?” Stretch murmured, his hand tightening briefly on Sans’s cervical vertebrae in a way that made the smaller skeleton gasp.

He was having absolutely no success trying to string together any sort of objection. His body was already protesting having to wait even another minute before getting started. 

“But…you? And Blue? That wasn’t what I…you don’t have to…”

Stretch laughed brightly. “Oh man. You don’t have to worry about Blue. He understands, you know? As long as I let him know what’s up, he’ll be happy for me to help you out.”

He stood up, lifting Sans easily and depositing the smaller skeleton at the base of the stairs before giving him a little nudge. “So go wait for me upstairs, yeah? Oh and…feel free to lose the clothes. You must be burning up.”

Stretch winked playfully at him before heading for the door, probably heading out to intercept the rest of the household before they returned from their morning errands. Sans took a few shaky steps before faltering, scrubbing furiously at his sweaty face and wondering what exactly he’d just agreed to. 

You just agreed to get laid, one snippy corner of his brain informed him, and his soul did a giddy flip that left him weak-kneed as he clambered up the rest of the stairs and rushed for the safety of his room. He closed it behind him and managed another few graceless steps before sinking down to the floor, curling into a tight, trembling ball of desperation as the last of his composure crumbled away. It had taken every last scrap of his willpower to pull himself together long enough to ask Stretch for help. He could only hope the other skeleton was as good as his word, because Sans could feel his coherence starting to slip away as his soul started to throb in urgency.

He didn’t think he could stand to wait fifteen minutes.

“Fuuuuuck,” he whined, clawing desperately at his clothes. He was burning up, and he couldn’t stand even the loose weight of his t-shirt any longer. He fumbled helplessly trying to strip the garments off his body, taking far longer than he should have to thread his arms and skull out of the sweat-drenched fabric and throwing it to the floor with a wet slap. Kicking off his shorts was easier, and he hissed in relief as the obstructing fabric was peeled away from the over-sensitive bone.

He didn’t have to wait. Stretch would understand. Pressing a hand to his mouth to try and muffle some of the sounds he was about to make – was he really that loud? Oh god. Had he kept Stretch and the Fell brothers up last night listening to him frantically fucking himself for relief? – he reached a hand down and deftly toyed with the thick tendrils of volatile magic churning through the clefts and openings of his pelvis. He teased out the shape of a cock, his breath hitching shallowly as the shaft took form, burning hot and almost painful to touch. His fingers weren’t any less heated, and he couldn’t help but fantasise about Stretch returning and applying his own cooler touch to Sans’s cock. He stroked himself carefully, lightly, impatient to get off but too sore to rush, and a part of him wanted to wait for Stretch to return – to see the hooded look on the taller skeleton’s face when he found Sans already hard, naked and wanton, fluids dripping obscenely down his femurs and on to the floor. The image made him shudder in pleasant, painful need, and he lost himself in his sordid imagination until he was jolted by the subtle tremor in the floorboards that told him someone was coming up the stairs. 

Finally. His cock was so hard it was pulsing from pent up arousal. He turned towards the door, readying to either thank the other skeleton profusely for keeping his word or possibly just to beg him not to waste any time in getting down to business, realisation sinking in just a moment too late to remind him that Stretch was actually pretty light on his feet and the only one whose stomping footsteps could regularly be heard throughout the house was–

The Papyrus from Underfell, whom Stretch had appropriately nicknamed Edge, opened the door, his imposingly broad frame taking up most of the doorway. Sans’s intended greeting came out as a squeak of utter shock. The two of them stared at each other wordlessly before Sans belatedly realised he was not only completely naked but that his arousal was quite blatantly on display, being made up of shimmering blue magic that unavoidably drew the eye. He made a strangled sound and tried to cover himself, but being made of nothing but bone didn’t really offer him much to hide behind. 

Edge recovered quickly, his expression turning from surprise to a wicked, knowing smirk. “I knew it. So this is what he was trying to hide, huh?”

“Uh,” Sans fumbled, not having prepared a single thing to say in his own defence. He had been sure Stretch would have kept everyone else out of the house. Against his will, his body trembled, caught between humiliation and horror. 

Edge stepped forward, kicking the door closed and locking it behind him. “You’re in heat. And I suppose ash-trash intended to keep you all to himself, hmm?”

Sans wanted to protest but the sight of Edge walking towards him made him freeze in place, his body paralysed by conflicting signals because with every step he became hyper-aware of the aggressive magic radiating out from the taller skeleton, broadcasting his intent.

Edge was aroused. At Sans’s eye-level, it was immediately obvious in the tint of a crimson glow highlighting the peaks of his exposed illium. As Edge stepped closer Sans drew up on his knees, the entirety of his being focused on the thrum of magic pooling down in Edge’s pelvis, swelling softly behind the tight leather of his trousers. Sans forgot his uncertainty, his embarrassment and even about Stretch as he reached out with shaking hands to steady himself against the strong pillars of Edge’s femurs. Hesitantly, he pressed his skull against the bulge at Edge’s crotch, inhaling the potent smells of supple leather and spicy magic. He keened a soft sound of want.

Edge put a hand on Sans’s skull, his claws displaying surprising finesse as he gently stroked Sans’s cranium. 

“How cruel, to leave you alone like this,” Edge murmured, though Sans didn’t really understand the words so much as the low, promising timber of his voice. Sans felt his cock twitch with excitement and anticipation. “Well never fear! The great and terrible Papyrus will take care of you!”

Sans nodded eagerly, rubbing his face more firmly against the front of Edge’s pants, earning a soft, predatory growl. The hand on Sans’s skull held him in place, keeping him from moving.

“Normally I would have my brother beg for my cock,” Edge declared, reaching for his belt buckle. “But in this instance I believe I will take pity on you and-”

There was a pop of displaced air, and suddenly there was an additional skeleton in the room. Stretch glowered darkly at Edge, his eyelights smouldering in his sockets. The hands still resting casually in his pockets belied the stiff line of his shoulders as he tightly bit out, “What the hell are you doing?”

Edge didn’t even pause, casually unhitching his belt and toying with his zipper. Sans watched his hands with rapt fascination, far more enthralled with that than the conversation taking place over his head. Edge sniffed audibly, sneering at his counterpart. “I am taking care of him, since you seem to have neglected to do so.”

Stretch glanced down at Sans, taking in the small skeleton’s glassy stare, his rattling bones and the helpless leaking of pre-come already dripping down his untouched cock. The air in the room was stifling with the heat coming off Sans’s small body alone. His expression twisted into a mix of guilt and irritation. 

“I was just making sure he had some privacy,” Stretch said, and though Sans was aware of him moving closer his gaze didn’t shift from the sight of Edge peeling open his fly. His toes curled, and he fought the urge to touch himself, knowing instinctively that Edge would admonish him. “He didn’t want anyone else to see him like this…you included.”

“An unnecessary stipulation,” Edge scoffed, petting Sans’s skull again encouragingly. “I’m clearly the most capable of assisting him in this state.”

And evidently he had no issue with doing so despite Stretch’s very present disapproval, but Sans was beyond caring. Edge carefully freed his cock, the shaft heavy in his hand as he stroked it right before Sans’s ravenous gaze. Only the hand on Sans’s skull prevented him from leaning in to taste it, but Edge seemed insistent on making him wait.

Sans whined impatiently, and Stretch’s expression faltered. He had been watching Edge’s display with a conflicted expression of lust, not nearly as unaffected by the proximity of Sans’s heat as he might have liked to be.

“He asked me for help,” Stretch tried, though it sounded more like a plaintive claim than an argument. He touched a hand to Edge’s wrist but didn’t exert any force to dislodge his counterpart’s grip on Sans’s skull.

Edge grinned at him, fangs bared victoriously as both of them felt Sans straining to reach for Edge’s cock. The tip of a blue tongue peeked out from between Sans’s teeth, straining to cross the distance. “He doesn’t seem to have any objection to my presence. Rather the opposite, I think.”

Stretch snorted. “Dude, I don’t think he could even spell his own name right now.” 

To prove it, he knelt down and gently pulled Sans’s face towards him. Stretch held up two fingers in front of his soft, unfocused gaze. “Hey Sansy, how many fingers am I holding up?”

Sans blinked in slow incomprehension. The question didn’t mean anything to him, but he faintly remembered those fingers tapping softly against his teeth and the intense rush of satisfaction he’d felt when they’d hooked into his mouth, so the only reasonable thing he could think to do was tug Stretch’s hand towards him and suckle gently on his phalanges since Edge refused to let him do the same with his cock. Sans let out a contended churr of delight, spine arching as he licked and suckled between the joints of Stretch’s fingers.

“Uh…” Stretch floundered for only a moment before deciding to simply roll with it. He managed to catch hold of Sans’s tongue and gave it a squeeze, earning a breathless moan from the other. “I think he just proved my point. He’d probably be game to screw that stupid Flower if it showed up and asked.”

Edge watched Sans drool unabashedly over Stretch’s fingers, his smirk curling as he said, “I believe this argument is unnecessary. Sans appears to be in an accommodating mood. We both want to assist him, so it would be reasonable to share, don’t you think?”

“Yeah?” Stretch huffed, trying to extract himself from Sans’s grip with minimal success. The small skeleton seemed intent on trying to swallow his hand whole. He glanced up at Edge, taking in the challenging glint in his eye, like he thought Stretch would be too much of a prude to agree. He was sure there was some sensible objection he should be bringing up, but honestly he’d been half hard ever since Sans had sat beside him on the couch. Proximity to a monster in heat made it almost impossible to stay rational.

“Fine,” he allowed, releasing an uneven breath. Though he and Edge didn’t agree on a whole lot of things, he knew that beneath the gruff exterior Edge was absolutely sincere in his commitment to their brother, no matter which universe he might have come from. Hopefully Sans wouldn’t mind when he came back to lucidity.

He certainly didn’t seem to mind right now, his expression full of raw lust as Stretch finally extracted his hand, now covered in thick ropes of saliva. Sans tried to follow the withdrawing fingers but Edge grabbed a firm hold of him and pointedly rubbed his cock against the other skeleton’s smooth cheekbone.

“Come now, I have a better use for your mouth,” Edge purred at him, and Sans readily allowed himself to be redirected. The smaller skeleton opened his mouth, baring the soft velvet of that tongue that Stretch was now intimately familiar with, parting his teeth in clear invitation. 

Still Edge insisted on teasing him, holding Sans’s head firmly on either side and just barely letting the tip of his cock make contact with Sans’s tongue, drawing out a cacophony of wretchedly desperate noises. 

Stretch smirked, despite himself. “Is that what you call 'helping’?”

“The great and terrible Papyrus would be too overwhelming to take all at once,” Edge informed him smugly. He gave Stretch’s dripping hand a pointed look. “You should make yourself useful down there. Unless you don’t know what you’re doing?”

Stretch glared, but silently appreciated the prompting; he’d gotten a little too caught up in watching Edge’s cock make shallow, bobbing motions over the lip of Sans’s teeth. He pressed up against Sans’s spine, easily engulfing the smaller skeleton in his long arms. Sans pressed back against him enticingly, his tailbone grinding against the front of Stretch’s hoodie. 

“Shit,” he muttered under his breath, hastily stripping off both his hoodie and tank top in one swift motion. The contact of his bare ribs against Sans’s scapulae felt much more intense, and Sans groaned appreciatively, hips rocking eagerly at the promise of further contact. Stretch practically had to pin him in place to be able to wrap a hand around his cock, but the full-body jerk of appreciation and screech of sound made the effort well worth it. 

“Don’t worry, Sansy, we’ll take good care of you,” he murmured against Sans’s nape, tenderly licking at the vertebrae. He could hear the soft, wet sounds of Edge’s cock slowly plunging deeper into Sans’s mouth, the sound reverberating obscenely through his skull. Carefully balancing Sans across his lap, he reached down below the mound of his pubis and let his still-slick fingers curl into the underside of Sans’s pelvis, threading through the swirling mass of cyan magic pooling in the opening.

Sans spasmed with pleasure, his wail cut off as Edge finally thrust fully into his mouth and began fucking him in earnest. Stretch was left to try and hold the rest of Sans’s small frame steady, each of Edge’s forceful thrusts enough to lift Sans off Stretch’s penetrating fingers before mercilessly shoving him back down. 

Sans’s first orgasm came quickly, the wet, sloppy sounds he was making around Edge’s cock peaking as his bones quaked in the throes of climax. Sans rocked blindly into Stretch’s hand before his cock pulsed and expelled its release, hot cyan liquid gushing over the taller skeleton’s fingers. Fascinated, Stretch gently milked the last of it as Sans’s shudders subsided, but noticeably the organ didn’t soften in his hand. It was still achingly hard and twitching, still ready for more.

“Damn,” Stretch breathed in appreciation. He shouldn’t have underestimated Sans’s stamina – not after the hours of desperate, pleasured noises from last night. A monster’s sexual capacity was much more reliant on their magical reserves than their physical endurance. Even though Sans went boneless between them, his body loose and exhausted, the urgent aura of arousal only seemed to sharpen. Stretch could feel the magic in Sans’s pelvic inlet tightening around him, practically suckling on his phalanges as the formation shifted and the shape of his cock melted away to form a tight, clenching pussy instead.

“Ha! And you chastised me for teasing,” Edge huffed, the tight control in his voice coming slowly undone as he began to reach his own climax. Sans’s passage clenched again, and the noises the small skeleton was making were starting to sound frustrated. 

Stretch grinned unabashedly. “Hey now. The magnificent and lazy Papyrus knows what he’s doing.”

He wanted to be absolutely sure Sans was prepared enough to take him, because despite his obvious, soaking eagerness Sans’s pelvis was really quite small. With both their magic in there it was going to be a tight fit unless Sans was as relaxed as possible. The first orgasm definitely went a long way towards helping with that, and with a hiss of relief Stretch allowed his own cock to spring free of his cargo shorts. Its natural size was intimidatingly girthy, and even without attention it had thickened to full hardness. He carefully lifted Sans’s hips, lining himself up and cautiously pressed the head of his cock against the softened entrance of Sans’s passage before slowly pushing in.

“Ah-ah!” Sans gasped, the sound falling freely as Edge withdrew from his mouth. Sans’s body had started to tense, spine stiffening, ribs constricting, and there was a tight edge of something approaching pain in his voice that made Stretch wonder if he’d moved too soon after all.

Surprisingly, Edge intervened, swooping down to lick distractingly around Sans’s jaw, softly coaxing him with soft words of praise and encouragement.

“Relax now, pet, you want this, don’t you? You want him to fill you up and soak you in his release. You’ll love every minute of it, so don’t hold back. Be a good boy and let him take you.”

Sans keened a low, incoherent moan, but his body did relax slightly and Stretch found the other’s pussy almost eagerly swallowing him up as Sans let gravity and gentle pressure slide him back onto Stretch’s cock.

Stretch groaned, a low, hungry noise of desire, forcing himself not to grab Sans by the illium and just impale him to the hilt. He could see his cock stretching out the tight pocket of Sans’s magic, curving up towards his lower spine, and the sight of himself being so deep and thoroughly inside the more private cavities of Sans’s body was unbearably arousing. 

“There you go,” Edge said, stroking Sans’s cheek. “Doesn’t that feel good?”

“Hnngh,” Sans slurred in agreement, his eyelights hazy as he went entirely limp in Stretch’s hold, trusting and pliant. He weakly lifted an arm and clumsily scrabbled at Edge’s hip. “Ple…please…”

Edge nodded, giving Stretch a stern look. “Start slow.”

“Yeah,” Stretch agreed tightly, wondering whether he could even bear to move. It felt so good, just sitting inside Sans like this, their magic meshed together, gloriously intertwined. Then Edge thumbed open Sans’s mouth again, thrusting in with his own powerful length, and the jolt that ran down Sans’s body made him shift and tighten around Stretch, enlightening him to the idea that it could get even better.

He tried to start slow, he really did, but his first few shallow thrusts forced absolutely delicious noises from Sans, and despite the initial difficulty of their joining Sans’s passage was incredibly slick, making each motion glide with electric friction. The fact that each of his own thrusts was met at the other end by Edge, each of them making sure Sans’s body was pumped full of magic, building up a ragged tempo as Sans writhed helplessly between them. 

The overload of sensation was too much for Sans, whose pent up magic desperately needed the loss of control brought on by climax. Stretch felt it building where Sans’s pussy was thoroughly wrapped around him, the magic of his cunt pulsing and throbbing and heating up to an almost uncomfortable degree before it finally culminated in a burst of constricting pressure that refused to relent, sending Stretch toppling over the brink himself. Distantly he could hear Edge letting out a carnal groan that probably signalled his own climax, but it was hard to focus on anything except the way Sans’s pseudo-flesh ripped around him, drawing out the waves of pleasure as he slowly came down from the gratifying high of orgasm.

Eventually he could breathe again, think again, enough to let his magic dissolve and lay Sans gently down on the carpet. The small skeleton looked positively debauched, splattered with orange and cyan over his femurs and pelvis, and the distinctive crimson of Edge’s magic dripping down his chin and cervical vertebrae. He was still twitching with little aftershocks of pleasure, but there was a contented softness of relief about him that replaced the frenetic energy of earlier.

The churning swirls of magic hadn’t yet dissipated from his pelvis, however. Stretch looked at it in consternated amusement. 

“We’ve probably got ten minutes before he’ll want to go again,” he said to Edge, wiping some of the sweat from his own brow. Suddenly he was much more glad to have some assistance with this; Sans’s heat might have been too much for him alone. “You gonna be up for it?”

Edge looked a little breathless himself, but at the hint of challenge in Stretch’s words, he straightened up, unwinding his scarf and setting it resolutely to the side. “As if you even need to ask.”

Between them, Sans made a soft trill of satisfaction, his bones still pulsing with unrelenting heat.

**Author's Note:**

> For faster fic updates, come check me out at askellie.tumblr.com!


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